Finding the Voice
by Kabu
Summary: First, she must conquer the dragons. Next, she must win the war. Ultimately, she must forgive herself. Will be updated weekly. Rated T for some language.  Told from 2 points of view.  R&R is loved and thanked. Some UlfricxDragonborn.
1. Helgan Bound

**Author's Note:** _Hello, guys. This is my first fanfic in a long while, but it's great to be back. A few quick notes about this story._

_1) It is told from 2 points of view. Odd-numbered chapters are told by Ulfric, while even-numbered chapters are told by Lianna. _

_2) The story will be updated once or twice a week. It's not going to be super long, so I don't want to finish it off too quickly. However, I don't want to update infrequently. Bi-weekly is most probable._

_3) I welcome critique. I only ask that you be respectful and constructive. That includes if you like the story. Tell me why you like it. I like to know what I am doing right._

_And that is it. Thank you all for reading and all critique/comments are appreciated._

_-Kabu_

**Chapter 1: Helgan-Bound**

This morning certainly did not go as I had planned.

Twelve hours ago, we were all drinking mead and reminiscing of good times gone. We talked of family left behind, the Imperials we had killed, everything worth noting around a campfire. The boys were singing out of tune and Ralof was making out with one of the horses for a hundred Septims.

Now, I was stuck in this carriage with Ralof, some woman snagged off the border, and a thief who tried to steal Ralof's "lover" right out of our campsite.

Oh, the battle had been glorious, don't get me wrong. We sent heads rolling down the hills, clanking like kitchens as they hit rocks and trees all the way down. Ralof and I were keeping count of our kills, shouting our numbers to each other over their shiny heads.

And then, before I knew what was even happening, an entire army of iron-clad Imperials swooped upon us like skeevers on rotten meat, and slaughtered the Battle Maiden who shielded me from a sword that could have spelled my death. In those mere seconds, as I watched her body fall to the ground in a pool of red, I looked to the rest of my Stormcloaks, the children of Skyrim, and decided that Skyrim had suffered enough of a loss for the day.

I surrendered.

And now we were Helgan-bound.

I figured we could have worked out a plan. But as the carriage closed in on the Helgan's gates, I was beginning to wonder if I had sentenced my boys to a fate worse than Imperial slaughter. Yet as I looked to the carriages around me, filled with Stormcloaks, heads held high despite their impending doom, I was reassured that I had made the proper choice.

"Well, look who's finally up," Ralof announced, a weak smile crossing his face, "Welcome home."

I glanced at the disheveled Nord woman sitting beside me, the straggler on the border who had been mixed into the ambush. Either she was too disoriented to laugh, or Ralof's humor wasn't her brand. Either way, she merely scoffed and struggled against her bindings, trying to wrestle her hands free and failing miserably.

"I don't want to die," the thief murmured, hyperventilating and rocking back and forth in his seat. His eyes were sunken, his hair seeming to turn gray with every rock the carriage hit. "Damn you, Stormcloaks. Skyrim was better without your petty rebellion."

"It's no use arguing now, horse thief," Ralof sighed, his ocean-like eyes gazing to the clouds, "All that matters now is Sovngarde."

The thief didn't seem to buy that, because whatever courage he'd worked up suddenly disappeared, and he returned to rocking on his seat, salt water pouring from his sunken eyes. I wanted to tell him just how much "better" Skyrim would have been with his precious Empire, but that bastard Tulius made sure to send a strong gag with his ambush, and I was left silent.

And strangely, I kept thinking of how amusing it would be if Galmar were in my place, the ol' bear. He would've talked this gag to death by now, I'm sure. He could talk through anything.

I looked again to the woman beside me. Her hair was a rather charming shade of reddish blonde, almost orange in the sunlight. She was staring down at her bindings with pale emerald eyes, still struggling to free herself and cursing under her breath. I didn't quite understand why. Even if she could leap out of the carriage, the place was swarming with Imperials. She would be shot dead within seconds.

"Who is this guy anyway?" the thief inquired, and our eyes locked for a brief moment.

"That's Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak, thief," Ralof answered, his blonde braid jostling around as the carriage moved uphill, "The very man you will call High King if we survive."

"High King…wait, you?" the thief stammered, dumbfounded, "By the nine, no!"

That did it. The man's head dropped and whispers spewed from his mouth in prayer and helpless pleading. Ralof shook his head and returned his gaze to the sky. The woman ignored them, growling like a feral wolf and finally giving up on her bindings. She turned to me, noticed my staring, and delivered a message in the form of spit to my eye.

I was not flattered.

* * *

><p>The sun was almost directly overhead, as if to point directly at the chopping block and say, "You die here."<p>

The thief, Lokir, as the Imperials called him, lay dead about ten yards away, an arrow sticking out of his back. I stood before Tulius, who wore a pompous grin so large I'm sure Talos could have shot it from Sovngarde. Ralof stood in front of my army, all bound, yet almost content as they watched Tulius pace in front of me in his gold armor.

"Ulfric Stormcloak," he announced, "Today, you pay the price for using the sacred power of the Voice to murder High King Torygg."

_I murdered him with my sword._

"Mmmf rrg mmrrg," came my unsuccessful retort. Tulius seemed to chuckle, yet his eyes remained stern.

"The time has come to put you down, Jarl of Windhelm," he said, "You, and the rest of these traitors who stand in Helgan beside you."

_They are not traitors_.

"Mmmf rrg," I growled, cursing the gag.

A priestess emerged from the crowd and preached our last rights, but I found myself turning my gaze back to the Nord woman. She glared at me and spit again, my eye wincing instinctively. I solemnly shook my head at her, and her eyes softened slightly before returning their gaze to the chopping block. One of my men had stomped onto the dirt where the Imperial Captain and Executioner stood, and was pushed onto the block.

"My ancestors are proud!" he cried as the dark axe rose to the sun, "I will go to Sovngarde with honor, Imperials!"

The unsettling metallic screech of axe hitting bone rushed to my ears, and I watched the man's head roll onto the dirt, leaving a trail of blood behind it. Jeers and cheers echoed from those behind me, and I was reminded of just how divided Skyrim was. I looked away from the man's corpse, closed my eyes, and whispered "Talos guide you, son of Skyrim" as well as the gag would allow.

"Ragged Nord!" the Imperial Captain called.

I looked to the Nord woman again. She stood tall, stiff, and inched a foot forward when a roar echoed through the sky. She stopped dead, as if paralyzed, and watched the sky. The roar echoed again, louder, and we all followed suit.

"Did you…hear something?" a man's voice inquired.

"Go on," Tulius ordered, "It's probably nothing."

I looked back to the Nord woman, whose gaze had not fallen. Before the captain could beckon again, she was walking, but her eyes never left the sky. The captain grabbed her and threw her onto the block, and the dark axe rose to the sky.

And suddenly, something darker than that axe entered Helgan.

It was enormous. It was like the night sky personified, except far less stars. The beast was perched on top of Helgan Keep, leering down at us with eyes as red as a Nord's blood. The sky around it turned into a swirling cloud of destruction, and fire and wind exploded from its jaw.

This wasn't right. How could a dragon, of all things, be here? Why now?

Ralof sprinted over to me and undid my bindings before running to the block, where the Nord woman was struggling to her feet. He pulled her up and dragged her to the nearest tower, and we all paused for a moment to breathe. Ralof pulled her bindings loose, and the first thing she thought to do was let her hands fly to her head and confirm that it was, indeed, still attached.

"Jarl Ulfric," Ralof whispered, his voice quivering, "Is that…really…?"

"It has to be," I answered calmly, watching the beast tear through the sky, "Legends don't burn down villages. We need to get out of here before we're burned down, as well."

The Nord woman peeked out the door, breathing heavily, her eyes wide.

"It's beautiful," she whispered.

"Beautiful?" Ralof exclaimed, "Are you MAD, woman?"

"Beauty can be found in destruction, Ralof of Riverwood," she replied sternly, "as terrible as that sounds."

"Continue your debate later," I ordered, "Let's head to the top."

Ralof and the Nord woman agreed and rushed up the steps, only to be greeted by a large black dragon head bursting through the wall and grilling one of my men. I climbed up behind them and looked through the resulting hole in the tower.

"Let's jump to the inn," I said, "From there, we will run to the Keep and escape."

"Yes, my Jarl," Ralof obeyed, taking the Nord woman's hand. They exchanged a mutual nod before leaping through the fire. Two other men followed, with me last. Jarl or not, I would not be the first to escape.

We dashed through the streets, the dragon grilling indiscriminately and voices screaming through the wind. Ralof engaged himself into a brief argument with an Imperial soldier, then, with the Nord woman's hand still locked into his, burst through the Keep doors.

* * *

><p>"Take Gunjar's gear," Ralof ordered the woman, stripping the dead Stormcloak of his blue and silver armor, "It's unfortunate, but he won't be needing it anymore."<p>

I looked away as the Nord woman changed into the late warrior's gear. I looked back when I heard her unsheathe Gunjar's axe. Ralof looked around the room, trying to pry open a locked door.

"Damn, it's locked," he growled, "We're sitting ducks."

"Wait a moment, Ralof," I said, "Everyone quiet down."

We sat in silence, and I heard a door creak open. Footsteps were approaching, and the Imperial Captain's voice rang through the hall: "Slaughter any Stormcloak that comes through."

The door opened, and she walked through with an Imperial guard at her side.

"For Skyrim!" Ralof shouted, lunging at the pair with his axe. The other soldiers joined in, mercilessly slaughtering the two and digging the key out of the captain's pocket.

"That was for Gunjar," Ralof spat, unlocking the door.

We crept down the stairs through the halls, the walls a putrid green and the entire place shaking so hard I was almost sure it would cave in on us. I almost got my wish when something enormous collided with the wall. The dust cleared, leaving a landslide of rocks in its wake.

"Dragon's really trying," one of the Stormcloaks muttered.

We snuck through a door, and my army rushed forward to ambush a few straggling soldiers. The woman, however, remained with me, the axe clutched in her fists.

"Why not go have some fun?" I asked, grinning.

"Because this is their fight," she answered, "Besides, someone needs to stay back and make sure you don't get slaughtered."

We headed further into the bowels of the keep. Blue light illuminated the halls, and the sound of thunder hit my ears. The woman charged forward, lunging straight into a man with lightning surrounding his hands. Ralof rushed to assist her, and the others rushed to kill the assistant, locked in a battle with two other Stormcloaks I was glad to see alive. The woman whirled around, the axe slicing the man's head clear off his neck, and Ralof had to duck as she stumbled into the wall.

"Watch yourself there, lass," Ralof warned.

"Sorry, but I'm not very friendly with axes," she muttered.

The other two soldiers stayed behind to watch for Imperials, and we pressed on. We passed through a hall of jail cells, most hosting piles of bone and the smell of rotting flesh. The woman bowed her head, pressing her hand to her neck.

"You alright?" I asked.

"Just hoping they are at peace now," she answered softly.

I could hear running water, and Ralof pulled out his bow. Three soldiers stood within the next room by a small waterfall seeping through the rock. Ralof shot one in the neck, and the others rushed to kill us as the man sunk to his knees. The woman rose her axe defensively, for while Ralof was the one who shot, I was the one they truly wanted dead. She deflected their blows, playing the guard while Ralof and the others sliced into them from the back.

"I think it would be best if we stayed behind, as well," one of the men suggested.

"Very well," I agreed, "I doubt many have made it past this point."

We continued on, Ralof lowering a bridge leading to a flooded room. We followed the creeks through tight tunnels, skeletons and random bones littering the ground we walked.

"So why are we being attacked by a dragon, of all things?" the woman asked, her voice low.

"I wouldn't know," I said with a shrug, "Dragons aren't supposed to exist, yet we just saw one with our own eyes."

"Oddly enough, we owe it our lives," the woman said, her tone almost silly, "That axe was ready to drop."

I chuckled. No doubt she was right. I owed my life to the beast as well, and I'm pretty sure he wouldn't mind taking it.

"Why were you on the border, sister?" I said, cocking a brow.

She merely shrugged.

"I just go wherever, and I just happened to be there."

"Fair enough."

We emerged into a bright room littered with egg sacs, and a family of frostbite spiders was waiting to greet us. The woman let out a disgusted "Ugh!" before chopping one in half. Ralof was grunting as they bit him, swinging his own axe like a madman until their corpses littered the ground.

"I hate those things," he muttered, squirming at the sight, "Too many legs."

The woman shuddered in agreement and pressed on, creeping through another creek. A mass of dark brown fur lay in a far corner before us.

"A bear," Ralof whispered, sinking to his knees, "We should probably sneak past it. Being mauled isn't on my to-do list."

"And if it wakes?" the woman asked warily.

Ralof smirked and handed her his long bow and some iron arrows. She grimaced at the sight.

"I don't work with bows," she said in a harsh whisper, "The sooner I get my hands on a sturdy sword, the better."

Ralof chuckled and took the bow. We snuck through the cavern, eyeing the bear with caution until we were well out of earshot. A bright light greeted us, and Ralof ran for it, laughing joyously.

* * *

><p>"Drop!" Ralof ordered.<p>

We sunk behind a pile of rocks. The black dragon was silhouetted against the evening sky, its fiery roar echoing through the atmosphere. Finally, it faded into the horizon, and the three of us shared a sigh of relief. I looked to the woman, whose eyes remained fixated on the sky.

"I will head to Windhelm alone," I said, "Ralof, take the woman somewhere safe. I wish to see her again."

"See me again?" she asked, her expression blank.

"What you saw here is what ails Skyrim," I explained, placing my hand on her shoulder, "You are a daughter of Skyrim, not a cut of meat for the Imperials' butchers. I invite you to join our cause to free Skyrim."

The woman gazed at me for a few more moments before laughing and shrugging my hand away.

"Did you rehearse that?" she asked, smiling wickedly.

"It comes naturally when you've asked so many men and women to fight with you," I replied, flashing my own little wicked smile back at her, "Tell me, Nord, what is your name?"

She seemed to consider for a moment, then finally looked into my eyes and replied, "My name is Lianna."

"Lianna," I repeated, "I will remember your name and your face. So long as it is for Skyrim's soil, you are welcome in Windhelm and in my Palace."

"Consider it," Ralof chimed in, "Blue would suit you."

Lianna chuckled and shook her head, yet I had a strange feeling that, despite her outward doubt, she was considering it.

"We will head to Riverwood," Ralof said, socking Lianna in the arm and smiling, "My sister will patch us up, and then you can make your own decision from there. Fair enough?"

Lianna rolled her eyes and smiled.

"Fair enough," she agreed.

They stopped in Riverwood, and I continued on, not wanting to bring more attention to Ralof's family than his homecoming may have already. The sun was setting, and I moved carefully along the path, eager to return to Windhelm and inform Galmar of today's happenings. Hopefully, the brothers and sisters we left behind made it through the Keep, and would soon join me.

As strange as it sounded, Lianna truly was right. That dragon saved me. Whether it was a strange coincidence or a message from the gods, it only meant one thing to me:

Skyrim had to be saved, and I had to be alive for it to happen.


	2. The Blood Awakens

**Author's Note**_: Hello everyone, and sorry for the delay in my update. Chapter 2 was giving me issues, so I've been taking my time plotting it out. I've also written a few chapters ahead, so the updates will be more frequent as I only need to fine-tine them. Expect Chapter 3 on March 11__th__._

_I read the reviews you guys left me and I took the critique offered. I know my word choices are sub-par in some cases, and I am working on fixing that. I greatly appreciate the feedback and I hope more of you will review and address any improvements or issues you see._

_As stated last chapter, the point of view shifts between Ulfric and Lianna. In this chapter, we will follow Lianna for the first time. I'd like to think I have a good grasp on character development, but if Lianna starts to seem too Mary Sue-ish, please let me know and I will fix her up._

_Thanks again for reading and reviewing. Stay tuned for chapter 3 on Sunday and I hope 2 is enjoyable for you._

_-Kabu_

**Chapter 2: The Blood Awakens**

"This is awful," Irileth murmured.

I followed the gray-skinned woman through the charred grass, followed by Whiterun guards and a heap of smoke. Whiterun's western watchtower sat in shambles before us, surrounded by patches of burning fire and dead bodies, most missing limbs. The sky reminded me of the black dragon's assault on Helgan: stormy and gray. It was only missing the swirling vortex of fire.

"Split up and look for survivors," Irileth ordered, "and be careful. That dragon can return at any moment."

She turned to me.

"You were at Helgan, so I would assume you know how to take on a dragon, right?" she questioned.

I shifted uncomfortably in my boots.

"I know how to…_escape_ from one," I admitted.

The color drained out of Irileth's face.

"Balgruuf places too much faith in strangers," she muttered, "Just do what you can, outsider."

Ironic that a Dunmer would call me an outsider.

I climbed onto the tower, sword brandished and shield held steady. A single guard was crouched onto the broken tower, surveying the sky and breathing fractured whispers as I approached.

"Run," he stuttered, "That dragon ate a man whole. He'll burn us all alive."

"Calm yourself, sir," I ordered, "If we don't fight, your entire city will be burned down."

"…It might have already happened," the man choked.

His words barely hit my ears before a shrill roar pierced through the clouds. I immediately thought back to Helgan. This roar was different, higher, less threatening than the black dragon's cry. I felt my heart retreating into my throat. _There were more?_

Sure enough, the bone-colored dragon circling above me did not match Helgan's dragon. The gray beast landed with an earth-shattering _"Thud!" _before me, and observed me with cold, serpentine eyes.

"Dohvakiin," it growled harshly, and I felt its warm breath pouring over me like a volcanic shower, "I am Mirmulnir."

"Mirmulnir," I repeated in a whisper, "Dohvakiin. I don't understand."

The dragon snapped at me, and I jumped back in a startled fit. He appeared to chuckle and spread his wings.

"Fight me, Dohvakiin!" he roared, soaring into the sky, "Show me what your blood is capable of!"

This wasn't good. Mirmulnir was circling overhead, breathing rivers of fire onto the ground below. I followed closely, avoiding the fire to the best of my ability and waiting for the beast to land. He finally crashed onto the ground, his claws scarring the earth, and he revved his head back to spew more fire onto the guards.

The bow on my back was useless, and I helplessly avoided the dragon's wrath until he landed before me. Now, while he was grounded, I drove my sword into his flesh, hacking away what little I could while it was possible. If anything, I seemed more annoying than threatening to him. He growled fiercely, swinging his tail like a mace and knocking me ten feet off the ground. I could only run back and slash at him again, this time dodging his tail.

"Not very strong, are you now?" he taunted, turning to face me with bloodied fangs. He lurched forward to snap at me, meeting my shield halfway and getting bashed back. I aimed for his eyes, stabbing as accurately as I could manage while the ground shook with every one of his steps. I heard Irileth screaming something, heard the guards shouting, but I couldn't make anything out. I kept slashing until the beast soared back into the sky.

Only he wasn't there for so long this time.

He came down again, but harder, as if it was a mistake. His wings seemed to shake feebly, and he turned to me with burning eyes.

"Brit grah," he snarled, stomping towards me with smoke bellowing from his jaw, "You're getting better at this. Unfortunately, I cannot allow you to grow further."

He was getting really violent now. Irileth was screaming again, I guess shouting orders because the guards started going nuts on Mirmulnir's back. He whirled around, knocking half of them away and never breaking his eye contact with me. We continued our battle, me slashing and him biting, until he revved his head back.

"Yol.." he uttered, and I froze.

I remembered that word. I remembered Helgan, when the black dragon's head exploded through the tower. He had said that same word.

"Tor.." Mirmulnir continued, and I dove away. If the last word was what I expected, then-

"SHUUUUUUUL!"

Fire blasted through the grass, narrowly missing me and burning a path halfway to Whiterun. I breathed heavily, clutching my chest. Mirmulnir laughed this time, audibly.

"I'm ten seconds away from smoked mortal!" he jeered, "Your battle has been wonderful, Dohvakiin, but it's time to end you!"

He charged at me, jaw wide open, fangs staring me down like a wolf ready to chomp on some dead hapless rabbit. I looked for something, anything, and finally felt the crude long bow resting against my back. I couldn't be picky anymore. I grabbed an iron arrow out of the quiver, aimed, and fired directly into the tyrant's mouth.

I hate bows, but a bow saved my life today and I decided I'd hate it a bit less. Mirmulnir fell back in pain and I sprang up, sword in hand, and drove it through the top of his still-open mouth. He growled in agony as blood spurted from the wounds, the arrow still stuck in the back of his throat.

"Dohvakiin!" he shouted, his strained voice echoing through my ears like a death sentence, "You have incited Alduin's wrath. Your world will perish in his fire!"

I stood motionless as the monster fell to the ground. His flesh burned off of his body, a whirlwind engulfed me, and strange words I had never heard before swirled through my ears. The entire world was spinning, as if in a twister, until the wind suddenly stopped, and the naked bone remains of Mirmulnir lay before me. I fell to my knees, relieved.

* * *

><p>"This Nord nonsense needs to stop."<p>

Proventus Avenicci stood prominently beside Jarl Balgruuf, his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed. He observed me with an incredulous eye.

"Nord nonsense?" Hrongar snarled, gritting his teeth, "If this woman is the Dragonborn, she needs to go to High Hrothgar immediately and answer the Graybeards' summons!"

I was so confused. Dragonborn? High Hrothgar? Graybeards? I'd heard stories, but this was all confusing. I looked helplessly to Balgruuf, who seemed to sense my dismay and ceased the two.

"Gentlemen," he said calmly, "There is no need to argue. We all heard the call of the Graybeards, did we not?"

I shuddered. The voice had rang through the air, and the sound of "Dohvakiin" still lingered in my ears. I was glad to know that, at least, I wasn't the only one who had heard it.

"Whether or not the girl is the Dragonborn is for the Graybeards to decide," Balgruuf continued, "It is not for us to argue."

Proventus still seemed unconvinced.

"I just don't understand how you can think this young woman possesses such a great power," he sighed, "She certainly doesn't look like a hero."

I scowled, opened my mouth to speak, and felt the force of a cyclone erupt from my mouth. The entire floor shook, and when I regained myself, Proventus was flattened against the wall and Balgruuf was laughing.

"There is your proof, Avenicci," he teased, "Lady Dragonborn" - he turned to me, his face returning to an expression of interest and study- "The sooner you get to High Hrothgar, the sooner you can learn to control your powers, and the history behind them. Even if this is all a misunderstanding, you possess the Voice, and there is no doubt their teachings will assist you."

I bowed to him in appreciation. After all of this confusion, Balgruuf was the only guiding light I could rely on.

Hopefully, he was leading me to the right place.

* * *

><p>Seven thousand steps...and I had spent them all thinking.<p>

As I approached High Hrothgar, the thoughts still lingered in my head. The whirlwind that surrounded me, the guards claiming I stole Mirmulnir's soul, and now these Graybeard people. Sure, I'd heard legends and stories, but I'd never once believed them...

To be perfectly honest, I hoped it was a misunderstanding. That black dragon, the one Mirmulnir had called Alduin, I simply couldn't forget those ruby eyes. They spelled death, yet there was something so mystical and beautiful about them. Even Mirmulnir, who was so colorless, possessed a mythical beauty that, until now, had not existed in Tamriel.

I didn't like the idea of hunting the beasts, despite the destruction. It felt wasteful, like an execution of color in a desolate world.

I wished they could be peaceful with us. Why did they hate us? Like the Imperials and Stormcloaks, were we simply meant to be enemies?

And then I thought again of Ulfric. Had he made it to Windhelm alright? Part of me considered going back sometime..

I shook my head. My thoughts were messier than this war, these dragons, all of Skyrim. I climbed the last few steps and looked up at the enormous black building that supposedly housed the Graybeards. I was scared, I admit, but I pressed on.

I needed answers.


End file.
